America: Starting with Daily Intelligence
Chapter 109 Versailles

Chapter 109: Chapter 109 Versailles

"What’s the background of those Black guys?"

Allen Zhang asked about the gang members he had encountered earlier, "They seem pretty arrogant."

"If I were you, I’d definitely not want to mess with those guys! They’re different from your average homeless folks. To be arrogant, you have to have something to back it up, and they certainly do!"

These people are in a league of their own, armed to the teeth with guns in their inventory. They have their own reasons for being able to stand firm in Los Angeles.

The homeless have nothing, even an ordinary cop can give you trouble, whereas gang influence is complex and deep-rooted, with money and power at their disposal, usually involving collusion between officials and outlaws. Who knows, some city council member’s financial backer might just be the gangs.

Old Karl said, "Moschino Gang is a Black gang founded in the Seventh District in the 1990s. Although not as big as Limp Gang or Blood Gang, they’ve grown considerably over time. I used to know an old friend who joined them and eventually became a key figure in the district, but he passed away from lung cancer a few years ago."

"Obviously, I wanted to ask my old friend’s son to come and sort things out for me, but their fees are much higher than average. It costs me 2,000 US Dollars just to teach some homeless people a lesson!"

Old Karl felt depressed and sighed, "Looks like I can only turn to some unreliable folks for help."

You get what you pay for; hiring gang members might be expensive, but they really show up when needed, sending a few expendable dark-skinned gunmen over doesn’t cost much, and employers don’t have to worry about retaliation.

When you hire people through the Black Market app, they might charge less, but they usually hit and run after one job, fearing that trouble might follow. If those people want revenge later, the first target is definitely you.

With gangs, there’s no need to worry. After being ’educated’ by them, no one dares to stir up trouble or seek revenge; otherwise, it’s a slap in the gang’s face. They are right next door, and who knows, they might drive a black car over one night, aiming an AK at you and go rat-a-tat-tat!

Unless you also find another gang to back you up.

Aside from the Limp and Blood, Allen hadn’t heard of any notable Black gangs. It seems this is a medium to small-sized gang getting worse off in the grand scheme of things, possibly upended by changing times, losing their protector, and eradicated root and branch by an FBI crackdown.

"What brings you here? Didn’t I tell you not to come here to sell your canisters lately?" Old Karl was curious.

"I was just passing by but saw some trouble here and thought I might help out." Allen Zhang said.

"Hahaha, you’ve just gotten your footing on the streets, how many people could you have under you? The streets are too treacherous; you young folks should not be overly competitive! How many streets has your ’Little Ducks Gang’ expanded to now?" Old Karl teased as he pulled out an aluminum bottle of Vodka, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

"Seven and a half?" Allen calculated, "It was seven and a half before, but just yesterday we had a friendly negotiation with another street force. They agreed to cede their territory and join us, plus the two streets from the Irish, and all the automatic recycling machines in the major streets."

Jon from Versailles lamented, "Oh man, I can’t compete with that."

"Pfft!!" Old Karl spurted out his drink.

He looked at him in shock, "Are you joking with me? Did you just wipe out those sewer rats all at once? Since when did Jon’s automatic recycling machines become yours? I remember very clearly, those Europeans are not easy to mess with."

"Didn’t feel like it."

Allen Zhang spoke candidly, "They were quite reasonable, and we didn’t really resort to violence. Everyone was quite polite to each other."

Old Karl fell into thought.

After a while, he tentatively asked, "How did you deal with those Europeans? Did you beat them with your fists? Did they cross you on your turf?"

"They came onto my turf, stole my canisters, beat up my men, and smashed my garbage truck. So I took some people over in a car one night, armed with a submachine gun and a few handguns, and stormed their lair." Allen Zhang said in an even tone.

"You... wait, you took people with guns over there?" Old Karl’s brain stalled.

How did it turn into gunplay while we were just talking? Isn’t this supposed to be a street fight among the homeless?

Do you even care about martial ethics?

"Yeah, that’s why they’re fairly easy to talk to," Allen Zhang sighed.

But what a dirty trick.

You stuck a gun to their heads just like what gangs do. No wonder they can’t tough it out!

Only those who recognize the caliber can be considered heroes.

"When did you get another car?" Old Karl began to question his life.

"Two of them."

Allen Zhang smiled and said, "One RV, one old pickup truck."

Looking at his pickup truck, after eyeing it for a while, he said, "That pickup is probably about as old as this one, not worth much. Only the RV is fairly valuable, about 7200 US dollars."

"..."

Really? Human language?

Old Karl was speechless and took a couple of swigs of vodka to quench his parched throat.

Come on, it’s only been a few days since I’ve seen you. How did your power grow so fast?

What are you, a locust? Munching on people and taking over land.

It’s like you’re going to devour the entire Fifth Street and you’re not afraid of choking to death?

Maybe I should join you. Honestly, the speed at which you’re making money is rather terrifying.

It took Old Karl a good while to digest all this information, and he lamented, "The streets these days are incomprehensible. Back in our day, we hardly ever pulled out guns on the streets, and private feuds were settled one-on-one in an alley."

"So you weren’t involved with gangs, you were just a garbage man," Allen Zhang said.

"You’re not wrong, but I don’t regret it. I’m actually glad I didn’t go down the gang path," Old Karl nodded, then chuckled and rubbed his hands greedily focusing on him.

"Now you’ve got a decent-sized territory, even got yourself several vending machines, but don’t forget to look out for me, too! I’ve taken good care of your buddy Dominic in the past!"

"Of course, I know that, but there aren’t many vending machines either, they’re all located near convenience stores and ATMs, and each can only pull in 200 US dollars a day. I still need to sell the rest of the cans to you," Allen Zhang explained frankly.

"I’m relieved you’re thinking that way."

Old Karl nodded with satisfaction, unaware that this was just a temporary measure from the General Sect Leader.

"Allen, could you do me a favor? Help me find those who smashed my shop! Don’t worry, I won’t let you down! I’ll pay 1000 US dollars for your service," Old Karl patted his chest.

"1500 US dollars."

Allen Zhang said without hesitation his bottom line, he had come for this matter, "For Dominic’s sake, I’d be happy to stand up for you."

Old Karl was stunned, feeling as if his bottom line was seen through.

"My guys are armed, scaring a bunch of bums isn’t a big deal."

Allen Zhang explained, "This price is very fair already! Take it or leave it."

"Alright, but I can’t provide any clues, you’ll have to find them on your own. It might be those short-tailed dogs from Mexico!" Old Karl considered and finally nodded in agreement.